


Fear For You

by staymagical



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Epilepsy, Established Relationship, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Panic, Seizures, because boyfriends fighting side by side is the best, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23508103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymagical/pseuds/staymagical
Summary: In the midst of freeing prisoners aboard a Galra prison ship, Keith takes a nasty blow to the head. Things only get worse from there.Keith grins but a wave of harsh dizziness washes over him and he stumbles into the wall with a hiss.“Keith?” The concern is palpable in Lance’s voice.“I’m alright,” he breathes. He’s not, the pounding in his head increasing, vision swimming and tunneling.Which is, of course, the moment a hoard of sentries spill out into the corridor.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for some good hurt/comfort and angst so, this is purely to fulfill my own desires. No idea where this is going or how long it'll be so, bear with me and enjoy the ride.

Keith shakes his head in a vain attempt to ward off the encroaching dizziness and pushes on down the corridor. Just one more wing of the ship, that’s all they have to clear and then he can finally take a breath and rest his head. Preferably in Lance’s lap.

He sidesteps another crumpled sentry, his gaze sweeping over the perfect hole blasted through the bot’s head and pride wells in his chest. It’s silly and borderline morbid to feel proud of the kill shots Lance doles out on the daily, but Keith can’t help it. This centuries-long war is taking its toll on all of them and he’ll be damned if he can’t find a smidgen of good within it all. Even if it’s just something as trivial as taking down a sentry with one shot.

He’s weak for that boy, so sue him.

Lance’s voice floats around the corner and Keith picks up his pace. His headache doesn’t seem to be dwindling much—which is concerning—but instead keeping up with each of his footfalls against the metal flooring. 

Damn, he must have been hit harder than he thought. Then again, it had felt hard to begin with.

Keith rounds the corner and audibly sighs as his eyes land on Lance, whole and fine, ushering the last of they’re recently liberated prisoners down the corridor where the lions await.

“The blue lion is waiting for you, hop on board and we’ll leave as soon as we free the last few,” Lance shouts after the last few aliens, shouldering his rifle and turning back as Keith approaches.

Lance flashes him a grin and nods. “You good, samurai?”

“I’ll be fine.” Keith straightens under Lance’s scrutiny, acutely aware of his appearance. “Let’s finish this.”

Lance gives him a slow once over but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

And Keith is grateful for it. Because he knows, quiznack it all he knows head injuries are nothing to brush aside. Hell, he can feel it pounding a rhythm through his skull. But the last thing he needs is Lance to reiterate what he already knows when there’s no helping the matter. They’re infiltrating the belly of a Galra prison ship, the rest of the team scattered about with their own missions while he and Lance free the prisoners. He can’t just leave Lance’s back exposed and sit the final leg out because he’s a bit dizzy.

Keith falls into step beside Lance as they take off down the furthest corridor at a steady pace, both eager to finish this mission and get off this damned ship. 

“Not sure if you heard on coms while you were kicking that Galra’s ass, but Hunk received our lot from the northeast wing. He’s taking them back to the castle now.”

Keith nods and regrets the movement immediately. “Good,” he croaks out. 

That sparks Lance’s concern and he glances over at Keith. “You sure you’re okay?”

Keith waves him off. “Just a headache. He got me good back there.”

Two sentries interrupt them, stepping out into the corridor to block their path. Lance easily picks them off without breaking stride, metal clanging as they crumple to the floor. 

“Maybe you should head back.” Lance’s concern is obvious but it’s hidden beneath his usual confidence and self-assured grin. “There doesn’t seem to be many sentries or guards left and I’m sure I can handle the rest.”

Keith extracts his blade as they cautiously round another corner with two more sentries approaching. He stabs one through the chest cavity as Lance takes down the other with a single shot.

“I’m not leaving you without backup,” Keith says, tone hard, leaving no room for argument. Lance’s brow remains pinched with concern. Keith softens. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just finish this then you can baby me all you want later.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

Keith grins but a wave of harsh dizziness washes over him and he stumbles into the wall with a hiss.

“Keith?” The concern is palpable in Lance’s voice.

“I’m alright,” he breathes. He’s not, the pounding in his head increasing, vision swimming and tunneling.

Which is, of course, the moment a hoard of sentries spill out into the corridor.

Miraculously, Keith has enough wherewithal left to flatten himself back against the wall behind a thin outcrop in the corridor, taking note of Lance doing the same opposite him. The sentries open fire, but Keith can barely form his shield, fumbling twice before managing to bring it up as his head makes the world go fuzzy at the edges and he sags against the wall. Lance is saying something across from him, voice garbled and distant. And when Keith looks up, the corridor is shifting, twisting, the lines between the wall and Lance blurring until he can’t make out where he is.

“Lance,” he breathes, words slurring. “I don’t think—”

But his voice fades with the rest of the corridor and Keith falls into the dark. 

* * *

When they had taken on this mission, Lance knew running into trouble was a given. It was a Galra ship after all, like jumping headfirst into the belly of the beast. A few skirmishes, some firefights here and there, and the bruises and cuts they earn along the way are all in the job description. 

Routine, inevitable.

But as he ducks behind his shield and watches Keith struggle to remain upright, fumbling to get his own shield up, he knows this is anything but routine. Something is wrong. Very very wrong. 

“Keith?!” A blast grazes past Lance’s shoulder and he ducks down further behind his shield. All his attention is on Keith and he breathes a sigh of relief when Keith is finally able to form his own shield, though it sags in his grip, barely covering his body from the blasts. “Keith talk to me! What’s wrong, what’s happening?”

Keith looks over and meets Lance’s eyes but Lance can tell immediately that he doesn’t register what he’s seeing. He’s swaying, eyes hazy and unfocused as he blinks a few times like he’s trying to clear his vision. 

“Lance.” Keith’s voice is barely more than a whisper but Lance could recognize the shape of his name on Keith’s lips any day. “I don’t think—”

And then his eyes roll back in his head and he drops.

Lance is moving before Keith hits the floor, launching himself across the corridor and releasing a few shots in the direction of the sentries as cover. A blast catches him in the calf and he hisses stumbling into the wall above Keith but managing to keep his footing. He moves with the momentum though, dropping down into a crouch and bracing himself over Keith to shield them both from the raining shots.

That’s when he notices Keith is convulsing and terror unlike anything he has ever felt seizes his heart.

“Keith!” He curses, going to reach a hand out to steady his boyfriend, to touch him, to reassure himself that he’s still goddamn alive but the blasts are too much, and he has to brace against the floor beside Keith’s arm in order to cover them both. “Keith, babe, come on. Don’t do this! Don’t—fuck!”

He doesn’t know what to do, pinned down with sentries at their back and Keith down, seizing beneath him and he can’t even help him, can’t move from his position or they’ll be shot to pieces and they’re stuck with no way out and no way to get Keith help. A wave of powerlessness washes over Lance so strong he fears he may just drown.

A voice crackles over the comms and through his panic he can’t even definitively tell whose it is but it breaks through enough to startle him into fumbling open the comms.

In that instant, all rational thought has fled and Lance is only able to scream a desperate, “WE NEED HELP!”

From there it's chaos. Everyone shouting, talking, cursing at once, their voices high and panicked as Lance struggles to hold it together under the barrage of fire and the fear gripping his heart as Keith continues to seize beneath him. The sentries are closing in, the blasts against his shield getting stronger and it’s taking all his strength just to stay in position and all his will to not completely break under the weight of everything. 

Through his spiraling panic, a calm, even voice nudges at his consciousness, poking and prodding until he finally rips his gaze away from Keith and focuses enough to understand that someone is talking to him.

“Lance.” Shiro. Authoritative, commanding trust and respect with every word. Lance swallows down a scream and listens. “Just take a breath and talk to me. What is happening?”

But he can’t take a breath, that’s too much to ask of him right now. It all ends up coming out in a barrage of words. “Keith is down, we are under heavy fire and I can’t move, I can’t help him, I can’t do anything. I don’t know—”

“We’re coming, Lance. Stay with him, stay strong.” Shiro’s calm voice is like a balm, the reassurance he desperately needs. It wipes away some of the fog of panic clouding his mind and he takes a breath, then another and another and tries to focus. “We’ll get you both out.”

“Fuck,” Lance grits out as a particularly hard blast cracks against his shield, nearly bowling him over. He rights himself, shifting to better protect Keith. “Shiro, he's dying. Please, help him, help him.” Keith’s limbs are rigid, painfully so and he just continues to shake and shake on the hard floor. “Quiznack, it won’t stop.”

Until it does. 

Just as suddenly as Keith’s convulsions began, they cease, his body going lax, limbs limp and head lulling to the side. A wave of relief so strong washes over Lance that he feels the prickling of tears gathering in his eyes. Around them, the blasts continue but they grow distant, mere background noise to the ringing in Lance’s ears.

Because Keith is unnervingly still now, a sharp contrast to just moments ago. 

“No no no, come on Keith, come back to me—shit!” He hisses, a blast grazing the arm he’s using to brace himself and his strength wavers. But he grits his teeth and pushes through the pain, shifting to better protect them both before glancing back at the sentries. 

Quiznack. They’re getting too close, fanning out across the corridor in order to shoot around his shield. In less than a dobosh, they’ll have a clear shot.

Lance glances down at Keith. There’s no telling when or if the rest of the team will reach them. He tuned out their chatter over comms but he can still hear them in the background, giving orders, directions, warnings. But there’s no telling where they are or if they’re even on their way yet.

A dobosh isn’t enough time.

Lance’s resolve hardens.

“Hang in there,” he says to Keith’s prone form, blinking the tears from his eyes, “the team is on their way.” Alive or dead, it doesn’t matter at this point. Keith is getting out of here in one piece. 

Lance stares at his face, committing every line, every hair to memory. There are so many other things he wants to say just then, but the words get lodged in his throat until all he can do is whisper, “I love you.”

Then he takes a steadying breath and launches himself at the sentries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Creating April Showers Challenge Day 6 (ignored the prompt again to continue this story. Oh well)
> 
> Enjoy!

It works. For a little while.

As Lance launches away from Keith and toward the sentries, they shift their aim, their shots solely focused on him as the immediate target and threat. It’s a risk, a gamble on his part but he remembers enough of Pidge’s rambling about the sentries and their baseline code to suspect they won’t continue to fire at a downed motionless target when a bigger threat was right in front of them.

He’s just glad it's working.

But now, he’s left himself exposed with nothing but his rifle in close quarters combat. 

Lance hefts his shield as he charges, getting off a few shots with his bayard before he crashes fully into one of the dead sentries in the middle of the group. There’s painful burning pressure along his thigh and torso where a few blasts caught him around the shield, but he grits his teeth and powers through. He tucks into the sentry’s torso as it falls back with his momentum, curling and holding its body to his back by an arm and a leg in a poor excuse of a fireman's carry before rolling to his feet on the other side behind the line on sentries.

And away from Keith.

Lance exhales, feeling like he can breathe a little bit easier. Now that he’s drawn their attention, now that they’ll be facing away from Keith. The panic is still there, still begging him to do more, to push harder, that it's not enough, not enough, not enough. But with one less factor to worry about, he can focus on keeping the sentries’ attention and taking out as many of them as he can until the team arrives.

Or until the sentries take him down. Whichever comes first.

But Keith is out of harm's way for the time being and that’s what matters.

The blasts pick up again as the sentries turn toward him and Lance grunts when a few hit their mark. A surge of adrenaline runs through him and he shifts the sentry on his back to better shield himself. Then he quickly backpedals toward the group and heaves their dead comrade at them, bowling a few over and distracting the rest long enough for him to roll forward and come up shield poised and gun at the ready.

Twelve sentries left and only a few feet separating them from him. It’s not enough.

But Lance does his best, firing off a few rounds with deadly accuracy and managing to thin their numbers a bit before the closest sentry is upon him. He dodges, parrying with his shield and smashing his gun into the sentry’s head, twisting around to meet the next and catching the blow on his shield. 

It’s at this moment that Lance thanks the stars for all the extra training the past six months. For the morning sessions Keith dragged him to until it became their normal, until Lance looked forward to getting up early just to see him, to compete with him, to be close to him. It brought them closer together, in more ways than one, and if Lance improved his fighting skills along the way, well, all the better for it.

But it's not enough.

There’s too many of them, and for all his dodging, bashing, and shooting, Lance is soon overwhelmed. A blow to his shoulder, a shot to his stomach, his leg, his arm, his knee and he’s down with a cry. His bayard is knocked from his hands as he hits the ground and he twists around, swinging an arm in a blind punch, his other lying immobile on the ground. Everything is alight with pain and agony and he can feel wetness beneath his armor but he won’t give up, never give up, as long as there’s still life in his body he’ll keep on fighting until the end. 

For Keith. Always for Keith.

The sentries above him raise their guns. Lance kicks out, knocking one off its feet and on top of him and catching another at the ankles but they recover quickly. There’s too many of them, too many blows and Lance’s strength is nearly depleted, his vision blurring, flickering in and out.

He knows this is it, but he doesn’t want to believe it.

A whistle of metal cuts through the corridor and a green blur knocks into a sentry at his feet as another goes down from a blast to the side. The sentries look to the right, in Keith’s direction and for one terrifying moment, Lance thinks they’re going to finish him off.

But his sluggish brain finally registers the chaos picking up around him, the sentries falling under the attack, the familiar colors and bodies, picking them off one by one.

With one last effort, Lance kicks out at another sentry at his feet and gasps as the movement pulls at the wound on his thigh. The bot goes down, quickly shot through the chest by someone off to the right but Lance barely registers anything, eyes squeezed shut as he rides the agony shooting through his leg.

When he comes back to himself, someone is kneeling above him, bright yellow and dark warmth, hands strong and gentle on his good shoulder.

“Lance!” The voice above him is panicked but oh so achingly familiar. “Hey talk to me!”

Hunk. 

And Lance knows he should be relieved, that Hunk is here, that Lance is alive, that the team came just in time, but he can’t. His heart seizes in fear.

“Keith,” Lance breathes, struggling to peer around Hunk’s bulk. “Get Keith. He needs—he needs help.”

Hunk squeezes Lance’s shoulder gently, drawing Lance’s attention back to him. “Shiro’s got him, buddy. He’s got him.” 

Relief so strong washes through Lance and he sags back, eyes closing. Keith’s safe, in good hands now. That’s all he wants. 

“But we need to get you out of here too,” Hunk continues and Lance peels his eyes open to meet his worried gaze. “Can you move?”

He can’t, he knows he can’t but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Lance barely makes it to a sitting position before he’s listing into Hunk. Hunk for his part seems to anticipate this because he’s scooping up Lance before he can even think to protest, pain bursting to life all over his body and then they’re jogging down the corridor and away from the carnage of sentries.

“Thank you,” Lance whispers into Hunk’s armor, his consciousness wavering. “Thank you for getting him out.”

A chuckle rumbles through Hunk’s chest. “You did all the work, man,” he says, voice cracking and wet. “We’ll get you to a pod and you’ll be back on your feet in no time. You both will. You just have to stay awake for me, alright?”

But Lance is already out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creating April Showers Day 7
> 
> I'm tired, its 3am, and I'm just ignoring the prompts now. This fic begs to be finished

It’s never easy coming out of a pod. 

No matter how many times, no matter the circumstance or extent of the damage, no matter whether he walks in freely of his own volition or is forced unconscious into one, the end result is always the same.

Cold, disoriented, tired, and sore down to the very marrow of his bones.

Lance blinks to clear his vision, shivering, and curls further into the warm arms holding him upright. Despite the shock of coming out of the pod, he doesn’t mind this part so much. The feeling of warmth and safety, of trust that surrounds him. He could stay here for a while, held tight in Keith’s loving embrace. 

Keith.

Fear seizes Lance’s heart in a cold vice as memories from the last mission slam into him. Keith dropping like a stone, the convulsions, Lance screaming for help as the sentries close in, drawing them away from Keith who who who—

“Where is he?” Lance asks, pushing against the arms holding him with a weird sense of deja vu as he notices it’s Hunk. Hunk lets him go, steadying him with a hand as he wobbles. The team stands around him barring Allura, the relief on their faces not reaching their eyes. “Is he—” But Lance can’t bring himself to finish that sentence. The image of Keith lying so still beneath him burned into his memory.

“He’s alive,” Shiro speaks up and Lance focuses on him, noting the dark bags under his eyes and slouch to his shoulders that hint at a restless night. “Though there were...complications.”

“Complications?” Lance hears himself ask but his voice sounds far away, distant. “What do you mean?”

As one they all turn to look at Coran and Lance follows suit. Coran startles, straightening under their attention before clearing his throat. 

“Right. Number Four had damage to his brain as well as bleeding, both of which required immediate attention or he would die.” Lance feels lightheaded all of a sudden, steadying himself with a hand to Hunk’s shoulder. Coran shifts his weight. “Putting him in a pod was our only option, but a risk. However, the pod only repairs what it can detect and there was no telling what other unseen damage his brain had sustained.”

“But he’s okay, right?” Lance gestures to the empty pods around them. “He’s no longer in a pod so he must be healed.”

It’s Pidge that speaks up this time, pushing her glasses up her nose. “As far as we can tell, yes. He came out of the pod about eighteen vargas ago. But—” She pauses, shifting nervously before glancing over at Shiro. He nods.

“But he still hasn’t woken up,” she finishes.

Lance’s breath won’t come. The words reverberate around in his head, swirling with images of Keith pale and cold and silent in that corridor. To know that nothing has changed, that the nightmare Lance had been living back on that ship hasn’t ended, it’s enough to turn the blood in his veins to ice. To have him keeling over right there.

But he doesn’t, rooted by a flicker of hope with the knowledge that at least Keith is  _ alive _ . 

Hunk’s arms tighten around him and he tries to draw comfort from it but it's not right. Everything feels off. 

Because it’s not Keith. He wants Keith to hold him, to sink into his soft embrace and wash away all the hurt and pain and aches. When he’s feeling down or at his lowest, Keith is the one he seeks out, the one who gives him strength and courage and confidence. The one who soothes his heart and stimulates his muscles and challenges his mind. The one who lights a fiery passion in his soul.

He needs Keith. Desperately. 

“Can I see him?” Lance asks, breathless. He feels like he’ll drown under the weight of it all if he doesn’t see Keith. If he can’t be near him.

Coran nods and thumbs over his shoulder. “He’s in the med bay.”

Lance forces himself to walk. It’s hard when his heart yearns to have been there ten vargas ago but his body is quick to remind him he just got out of a pod himself. He ignores the aches, the fatigue, focused solely on seeing Keith, and reassuring himself that he is whole and alive.

The room is quiet and sterile, reminiscent of a hospital back on earth though with more advanced tech. By the far wall, Allura stands at the side of a bed, tapping away at a datapad in her hands, her long hair cascading down her back in gentle waves. But Lance barely gives her a fleeting glance, so focused on the bed and as they approach, Allura turns and suddenly there he is. 

Lance’s breath lodges in his throat.

Keith looks almost serene, lying amongst the sheets, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. A simple nightshirt covers his arms and torso, a blanket hiding the rest of his body from view. For the first time, Lance wonders if there are any other injuries hidden beneath but he dismisses the thought as soon as it arrives. Someone would have said something if there was anything else to be concerned about. 

Most important is the gentle rise and fall of Keith’s chest and Lance takes his first real steadying breath since he woke up.

And then Allura is there, blocking his view of Keith as she pulls him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Lance.” Her breath tickles his neck, hand rubbing gentle circles into his back and he’s not sure whether he wants to scream or break down into sobs. With a final squeeze, Allura pulls back and his eyes immediately go back to Keith as she smiles softly. “Glad to see you’re okay. You had us all worried for a bit.”

“How long have we been back?” Lance’s voice is barely above a whisper as though he’s afraid of breaking the delicate balance Keith hangs in. He can’t take his eyes off Keith’s lax face, his dark hair a stark contrast against the white pillow, fanned out around his head like a beautiful halo.

“Nearly a quintant now.” She follows his gaze and they watch Keith breathe for a moment before she says, “He wasn’t in the pod for long.” 

“He had a seizure,” Lance blurts out suddenly, unprovoked. He’s not sure why he feels the need to share this, but it feels important somehow. A small bit of information that may help bring Keith back to him. “In the corridor right after he passed out.”

Allura nods, looking down at the datapad. “That would make sense, given the amount of damage his brain sustained.” She touches the screen a few times, the gentle tapping of her fingers filling the silence of the room.

“How bad?” Lance asks, fearful of the answer.

Allura sighs, turning her attention back to Keith. “It could have been worse but we won’t know the extent until he wakes up.” 

Not sure how or even if he is able to respond to that, Lance just nods. Suddenly, those few feet between them is too much. He needs to feel him, to hold him, to reassure himself that his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him. He needs to feel the life of him. 

The bed is high enough that Lance doesn’t need to bend in order to reach Keith’s hand. He slips his hand underneath Keith’s, slotting them together like he’s done so many times, like he plans to do so many times in the future. 

Warm, his hand is warm. Lance gives it a squeeze. 

Keith’s hand remains lax.

“Can I stay here?” Lance looks up at his team, unsure who he is asking but hoping someone can answer him. “I don’t think I can go back to—not until he wakes.”

Allura’s eyes soften, sorrow pulling at the corners. “There’s no telling when or—” she cuts herself off, swallowing down the rest of the sentence “—when that’ll be,” she finishes.

Lance looks back down at Keith, gripping his hand tighter. He’s too drained, too emotionally exhausted to do more than beg with a simple, “Please.”

Coran comes up beside Allura and rests a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get you a cot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creating April Showers Challenge Day 8, 9, & 10
> 
> I just can't let this story go. Need to finish it and who knows when that'll be...

Gentle hands shake Lance into consciousness. He jolts upright from his slouched position over the edge of the bed, hand instinctively curling around Keith’s hand still clasped in his. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, even refused the cot Coran offered to bring in for him because he didn’t want to be tempted. Instead, he sat in a chair beside Keith’s bed, holding his hand, waiting, hoping for any flicker of movement. For the barest sign of a change.

It never came. Keith stayed as still as ever through the passing vargas. 

Lance looks up at Coran standing beside him, one hand still on his shoulder and datapad in the other.

“He’s waking up,” is all he says.

And Lance forgets how to breathe. 

He looks at Keith, still in the same position as he was last night—or was that just a few vargas ago? Lance isn’t sure—hair fanned across the pillow and arms resting by his side. At first, he seems the same as he was before and Lance is about to turn to Coran to ask him what gives when Keith moves. It’s nearly imperceptible, just a twitch of the brow, his nose scrunching ever so slightly, but its movement.

Lance gives Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze. A sign that he’s there, that Keith is not alone.

Keith’s fingers twitch in his grasp.

Relief washes through Lance, mixed with joy and hope and he’s so overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions. Keith is waking up, he’s alive and whole and _here_ and that’s what matters. 

_“There is no telling what other unseen damage his brain has sustained.”_

Fear worms further into his lungs, growing, expanding. Because what if.

What if something _is_ wrong? What if he can’t walk, talk, run, or move in general? What if he doesn’t remember them, remember Lance? What if the Keith he knows and loves has changed? What if—

What if he’s just….gone?

No. It doesn't matter. None of it does. That’s still Keith there, no matter what condition he may be in. He’s still the same person, the one who holds Lance’s heart, his ride or die. Whatever complications may arise, they’ll face it. Together.

“How is he?” Lance startles at the Shiro’s voice and glances over to see the rest of the team filing in. Shiro nods to Lance, coming to stand opposite him on the other side of Keith’s bed. Lance nods in return.

Coran hums, tapping on the datapad. “Scans are normal, nothing seems to be amiss besides the prolonged unconsciousness.”

Keith’s hand twitches in Lance’s and finally, _finally_ his eyes blink open.

Lance is on his feet in an instant. “Keith?” 

Keith blinks sluggishly, eyes barely open more than a slit as his head turns slightly toward Lance’s voice. But he seems removed from reality, eyes unseeing and delirious, not all there. Fear clenches Lance’s heart and he turns to Coran. “What’s wrong with him? Is he—”

 _Brain-damaged_. But Lance can’t bring himself to say it, afraid the words will make it true. 

Allura comes up alongside Coran to peer down at the datapad. “He’s probably going to be out of it for a while,” she says, soft and calm as Coran scans Keith once more. Lance soaks up her calm like a dying man. “His brain needs to reorient itself after such trauma. Just give him some time.”

“That’s right.” Coran’s overly chipper voice slices through the somber mood permeating the room. “Number Four will be back on his feet in no time.” He glances over at Lance with a smile and a wink. “You’ll see.” 

Lance nods, distant, trying to push away the worry and doubt swirling around in his head. Allura and Coran know what they’re talking about. 

“Number Four, can you hear me?” Coran asks, leaning in to peer into Keith’s eyes with a light. Keith barely reacts, his movement sluggish and lulling. “How do you feel?”

Keith makes a sound, small and soft, like a mumbled grunt and Lance tries to remain calm.

Still, he can’t help but panic when Keith closes his eyes again, terrified he’s slipping back into a coma. “Keith! No, wait don’t—” 

Allura puts a hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Lance. He’s just resting. See.” She shows him the datapad, pointing to a few lines and waves that mean nothing to him. “Normal sleep pattern.”

It’s only when Keith’s hand curls further into his that he allows himself to relax some. He’s here, he’s alive, he’s just sleeping.

“So what does this mean?” Lance asks, running his thumb over the back of Keith’s hand. It feels strange, holding hands like this in front of everyone else. It’s like he’s letting the team witness an intimate moment between them. But he can’t seem to let go. He needs to be close to Keith, needs to feel his life. As though if he isn’t holding some part of him, he’ll just slip away. 

Lance’s heart constricts at the thought. He looks over at Coran. “Is he alright?”

Coran nods. “We’ll run some tests when he’s more lucid and able to remain conscious for longer but as far as I can tell, everything seems normal.” 

_Normal._

_Normal._

_Normal._

* * *

It takes another eighteen vargas for Keith to stay awake and be lucid enough for any sort of communication. Eighteen vargas of Lance dozing in and out by his bedside, holding his hand, refusing to leave. The team visits one by one; Pidge spends most of the afternoon curled up in a chair at the foot of the bed, tapping away at the datapad in her lap as she sifts through the intel they collected from the prison ship; Hunk pops in a few times laden with food and distracting conversation; Shiro’s visits are short but frequent, his calm composure and quiet company a welcome presence; and Allura and Coran switch out in shifts to perform scans and monitor Keith’s vitals.

They watch, they wait, they hope, standing vigil at the bedside of their fallen teammate.

It’s well into another sleep cycle on the castleship when Keith begins to stir, sheets rustling as he shifts. Lance has been wide awake for vargas, his sleep schedule all sorts of fucked ever since this whole ordeal began. Everything has been all sorts of fucked.

“Allura,” he calls, not taking his eyes off Keith’s face as he gets to his feet. 

Allura enters from the other room, the datapad in her hands giving off a soft beeping. “I know.” She quiets it with a tap and approaches the other side of the bed.

“Keith?” She leans in and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you with us?”

Keith opens his eyes and blinks at her a few times, eyes roaming around the room in a daze. He moves, pushing against the bed and Lance hurries to help him, easing his body up and propping him with pillows until he’s more or less sitting comfortably. 

And when he steps back Keith’s gaze follows him, their eyes meeting. There’s something, a fleeting spark of recognition in his eyes—or perhaps that’s just Lance projecting his hopes—and then Keith exhales a rough, “Hi.”

Lance smiles, choking back a sob. “Hi.”

“Keith.” Allura gently squeezes his shoulder, pulling his attention back to her. She takes out a small device Lance has seen her use before over the last two quintants and runs it over his head briefly as she asks, “Do you know where you are?”

On instinct, Keith flinches away from her probing but with a reassuring squeeze from Lance, calms and sits still. “The—the castle?”

“Yes. This is the castle ship.” Allura nods, smiling at Keith before putting the tool away and picking up the datapad. She makes a few notes and taps a few things before setting it back down and focusing on Keith. Her smile is warm as she asks, “Do you remember your name?”

“Keith K—Kogane.”

She nods again, smile widening in encouragement. “Very good. Do you know who I am?”

He stares at her for a dobash, brow furrowed. Lance holds his breath. “No,” Keith says softly, shaking his head. Lance’s heart constricts at the implication. “I know I know you, but—”

Allura pats his shoulder again. “That’s alright. It’s to be expected.” She points to Lance. “Do you know who that is?” 

Keith looks over to Lance and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Lance’s heart feels ready to burst. “Lance,” he says, no more than a whisper of wistful breath. Fingers squeeze his weakly.

And just like that, all his fear, the pain of the past few quintants, the anxiety, washes away as pure relief floods Lance’s every cell. “Thank you,” Lance manages to choke out on a sob. “Thank you.”

Keith’s brow furrows.

“Keith?” Allura speaks up, attracting his attention again. She nods toward the door beyond the foot of the bed where the rest of the team are filing through in various states of hastily dressed, Shiro at the forefront. “Do you recognize any of them?”

Keith nods, cracking a smile. “Shiro.”

“Hey, Keith.” Lance is sure he’s never heard Shiro sound so emotional before, his voice wet and raw as he comes to stand beside Allura and clasps Keith on the shoulder. “Good to have you back.”

Keith frowns. “Where did I go?” And he sounds so genuinely confused and so very innocently Keith, they all laugh. With relief, with joy, with hope, and the tension eases in the room. 

“Nowhere,” Shiro chuckles. “Just been asleep for a bit.”

Keith stares down at the sheets in his lap, worrying at the edge. “Oh.” But his frown only deepens as he continues to stare without really seeing. Suddenly, his head whips up, eyes meeting Allura’s in a moment of realization. “Allura,” he breathes, his tone tinged in guilt. “I’m sorry I forgot.”

Her smile is big and genuine, relief softening her features. “That’s alright, you’re doing very well.” She points over to the others. “And them?”

“Pidge. Hunk.” Keith pauses, then more hesitant, says, “C—Coran.” Satisfied, he nods to himself.

“Good good. Now, what’s the last thing you remember?”

The tension in the room kicks back up as they all wait with bated breath. Lance rubs his thumb over Keith’s hand, taking solace in the familiar movement. 

Keith frowns, concentrating, his gaze sweeping around the room as though it’ll reveal the right answer. “Uh, taste-testing Hunk’s experimental cookies for Pidge’s birthday?”

Lance’s heart sinks. He looks around, seeing his dismay reflected in the faces of his fellow teammates.

Keith looks at each of them, his brow furrowing at their expressions. “What? Was that...wrong?”

It’s Shiro that speaks up, kneeling down next to Keith’s bed and patting his arm. “Keith, that was nearly a phoeb ago.”

Keith’s shoulders sag, the hope and surety in his eyes fading. “Oh,” he says, solemn, then tries to smile but it comes out looking more like a grimace. “So, what did I miss?”

Lance latches onto the question with all his might and grins in an attempt at levity. “We found a planet of bug-eyed people—”

“Yi’kaks,” Coran interjects.

“—played an intense round of gin rummy—”

“Lance cheated,” Pidge huffs, crossing her arms as she plops down into the chair at the foot of the bed.

Lance waves her off, grin widening. “You can’t prove that. Then tracked down and liberated that Galra prison ship. Which is how—” he winces, waving at Keith’s current bedrest state “—this happened.”

Keith is silent for a moment before he nods, staring at Lance imploringly. “Tell me.”

And Lance does. He describes how they were intercepted by a hulking Galra commander while leading prisoners to the lions. How Keith had quickly jumped in to engage him and told Lance to take the prisoners and go. How Lance had stupidly listened to him, leaving him alone to fight a Galra twice his size. How he had caught up with them dobashes later a little worse for wear and complaining of a headache. And how he had quickly declined from there until—

“I had a seizure?” Keith’s voice is quiet, eyes wide. 

Lance nodded. “Yeah. It was—” _the worst moment of my life_ “—scary. I’ve never seen someone have a seizure before let alone someone—” He swallows the rest of the sentence.

Keith squeezes his hand, his expression warm and open and raw. _I love you too._

Breath stutters in his lungs. Here Keith is, having just woken up after suffering from a traumatic brain injury and a seizure, before falling into a coma and yet he still remembers Lance, still knows him better than anyone, still loves him and strives to comfort him when it should be the other way around. When it's Keith who needs all the reassurance and love and support. 

And Lance will make damn sure he gets it.

“Anyway, the team showed up and saved our asses and here we are,” he finishes quickly, hoping to change the subject and move on from this sore topic.

No such luck.

“Whoa whoa whoa, wait a tick,” Pidge interjects, sitting up in her seat. She stares at Lance, incredulous. “You’re leaving out the best part!”

“Best part?” Lance shakes his head. “There was no ‘best part.’ It was all terrifying—”

But Pidge ignores him, turning to Keith and pointing a finger at Lance with a smirk. “Lance kicked ass. Took down a dozen sentries by himself, most in close quarters.”

Lance shakes his head again. “And got the shit beat out of me for it.” He frowns, remembering sentries closing in on him. “If you guys hadn’t shown up when you did—”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Lance,” Shiro cuts in, and Lance startles, turning his attention to their leader. He looks almost proud, approval lightening his features but that can’t be. “It was a lot to handle, even Keith wouldn’t have fared much better and he’s got a blade. You did very well.” 

Pidge nods at Lance in respect. “Dove right into the middle of them.”

“Used a sentry as a shield,” Hunk says, enthusiastic as he mimics hefting something onto his shoulders. 

Lance is shocked, his mouth agape as he looks at each of them in turn. “Wait, how do you all know that?” he asks, pointing an accusing finger at Pidge and Hunk.

They share a look before Pidge shrugs. “I might have hacked into the security feed and snagged the video.” She pulls out her datapad, grinning. “You want to see it?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Keith says immediately. Lance looks over at him, eyebrows raised. Keith just shrugs. “It might help jog my memory. Besides, I have to see you kicking ass.” He clears his throat, but the grin remains as he says casually, “for research, of course.”

Lance stares at him with open shock. “Did you just make a joke?” Genuine happiness floods his veins and he can’t help the laugh that escapes. “Allura check his scans, something’s definitely wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creating April Showers Challenge Day 11 & 12

To be safe, Allura and Coran recommend Keith spend the rest of the night cycle in the med ward to ensure there are no other unforeseen complications. Reluctantly, he agrees and while Lance is relieved, he can’t help but feel disappointed that he’ll be going back to their room tonight alone. Even though Keith is awake and fine, the urge to be near him hasn’t abated in the least bit.

But if the pull in Keith’s brow and half-hearted responses are anything to go by, he’s tired and begging for some peace and quiet. 

Shiro must sense it too because in the next moment he cuts through the chatter filling the room. “Alright, I think that’s enough excitement for tonight. We should all get some rest, it’s been a long few quintants.” The dark bags under Shiro’s eyes seem even more pronounced as he speaks and Lance can’t imagine he himself looks much better. Shiro clasps a hand to Keith’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “It’s good to have you back.”

Keith nods and gives him a tired smile. “Yeah, good to be back.”

Barring Allura, the rest disperse off to their rooms after saying their goodbyes and well wishes. Hunk raises his eyebrows at Lance as he leaves and Lance nods, knowing it’s time for him to take his leave as well. It hurts to be parted from Keith so soon after a traumatic experience but there’s nothing for it. Keith needs to rest, his body still slumped with exhaustion and—even though Lance knows he downplayed it when Allura asked—a decent-sized headache. The better rested he is tomorrow, the sooner he can return to their room for good.

And Keith comes first, always.

With a quiet excuse about checking scans, Allura leaves the room and Lance can’t delay any longer. He sighs, giving Keith’s hand another squeeze before standing up. “Guess that’s my cue—”

Keith grabs tighter to Lance’s hand before he can let go. “Wait.” 

Lance pauses and when Keith urges him to sit back down with a gentle tug on his hand, he obliges, sinking back into the chair.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Keith whispers after a moment, his expression open and raw and almost pained and Lance just wants to wrap him in his arms and curl around him until the past few quintants are nothing but a distant memory. “Are you okay?”

A laugh threatens to bubble up out of his throat but Lance swallows it down. “Me? I’m not the one who had a seizure and was in a coma for over a quintant!”

Just like Keith to be more concerned for Lance’s  _ feelings _ than his own health and safety. Always putting Lance first and looking out for him more than himself. 

Guess that makes two of them. Quiznak, they really are a pair, aren’t they?

Keith just shakes his head. “Doesn’t make your pain any less valid. Emotional or physical.” He leans forward then, staring at Lance earnestly with a fear Lance had never seen before. “You nearly died, Lance.”

Lance swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “So did you.”

Lines of guilt pull at the corner of Keith’s eyes and he looks down at their clasped hands. “I’m sorry to put you through—”

“Would you stop apologizing?” Lance begs but there’s a smile in his voice and a lightness in his heart. “I'm fine. Or at least, I will be now.” Now that Keith is awake and talking and moving and everything is alright in the universe. He nods to Keith still laid up in bed. “And what about you? Are you sure everything is okay? No tingling or dizziness? What about an urge to speak in tongues?” he teases.

Keith chuckles. “Not yet.”

“And nothing hurts? Besides your head.” Coran had said his headache may persist for the next few quintants but fear still niggled at the back of Lance's mind. Head injuries were tricky and unpredictable, there was no telling if another problem might arise.

Not to mention everything Keith had undergone since waking up. 

It’s unimaginable what this must all be like for him, to not remember the last phoeb, to have it all explained to you like some cliff notes version of your life. To not know what you have been doing, or what happened to you, why you’ve woken up in a bed, scared and hurting, while everyone around you stares at you with hope that you’ll say or do the right thing. Only to disappoint them when you don't.

His heart  _ hurts _ for Keith and he just wants to make it all go away.

Keith smiles, shoulders easing as he leans back. “No, just the headache. And I’m exhausted.”

With a nod of his head and regret weighing his heart, Lance pushes to his feet. “I’ll let you sleep then,” he says, patting Keith’s hand with his other.

Once more, Keith just grips him harder. He shakes his head before quickly aborting the movement with a hiss and a wince. “That’s not—stay,” he says, eyes shining. “Please.”

Then he releases Lance and slowly shuffles to the far side of the bed to lie down. He pats the empty space in invitation. 

For a brief moment, Lance hesitates, unsure if he should give in to his yearning. But Keith is hard to resist, his eyes pleading with something akin to fear and need and Lance doesn’t stand a chance. He needs this too, desperately.

Carefully, he climbs onto the bed and Keith instantly leans into him, head on his shoulder, arm around his middle. Lance warms, settling his arm around Keith’s shoulders. 

And finally, the universe seems to right itself. 

Keith snuggles further into him, sighing with mirrored content. “Despite the less than ideal circumstances, I’m really proud of you,” he says and he sounds so earnest and honest, Lance’s chest tightens with emotion. Keith rubs his thumb against Lance’s hip. “So so proud. You’ve come a long way.”

Lance chuckles, rolling his eyes as his heart expands with love. “You sound like Shiro.” He pulls Keith tighter against him before placing a soft kiss into his hair. “I had a good teacher.”

“Thank you,” Keith says softly. He’s fading, Lance can tell. “For everything.”

“Always.”

A shuffle, a sigh, and then Keith breathes a quiet, “I love you.”

Lance chokes on emotion, laying his hand on Keith’s forearm. A reminder, a promise. “I love you too.”

And when Allura walks in a varga later, it’s to find the bed occupied by not one, but two paladins curled up in each other's arms, fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming in hot with an update. Sorry, it took so long, had to wait for my inspiration to return for its unauthorized vacation.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy

Normal doesn’t exist, that’s a statement Lance stands firmly by. It’s a construct, a way to separate that which is undesirable from that which society wants you to strive for. But out here in the vast expanse of space and planets and systems beyond human comprehension, they’re as far from human society as they can be. Out here normal truly does not exist.

But right now, Lance thinks this as close to a sense of normality as they’ve been the last six quintants and he’s oh so grateful for it. Keith’s still on the mend, plagued by bouts of headaches here and there—but getting fewer and far between as the quintants tick by—since being allowed to leave the med bay with an all-clear and Allura’s firm instructions to “take it easy, for once, will you?”

Lance has made it his mission to ensure he does just that. And much to everyone’s shock, Keith has yet to voice any arguments, sinking into Lance doting arms with gentle smiles and malleable whims.

“See that one there?” Lance points to a cluster of six stars forming the vague outline of a cup just below the edge of the window, the cold metal floor of the observation deck seeping through his jeans as he shifts. Nestled back against his chest, Keith hums, the gentle vibrations soothing against Lance’s heart, a reminder that he’s safe, and whole, and here. “That’s called Qi’ko. Coran said it's named after some ancient blessing from Altea. He explained it in detail but I wasn’t really listening to the rest.”

Keith hums again, his hair tickling the underside of Lance’s jaw as he tilts his head. “And that one?” he asks, pointing to a more dispersed seven-point cluster of stars off to the right. He’s holding Lance’s forearm like it’s something precious, warm fingers idly tracing patterns on the palm. 

“Uh.” Lance ponders the constellation. As a whole, the cluster is dimmer than Qi’ko but the star at the southern base shines a bit brighter than the rest. If he squints, it almost looks like a clamshell. “I was going to make up something to sound smart but honestly I have no idea. I’ve only learned a handful of them. There’s just so many now and I could barely keep track of the ones in Earth’s system as it was.”

A soft chuckle rumbles against Lance’s chest and Keith gestures to the cluster with an amused, “Well, go on.”

“Go on what?”

Keith tilts his head back until their gazes meet, the galaxy beyond shining in his eyes. “Name it. It’s yours now.”

Something dislodges in Lance’s chest and he huffs weakly at the offer, his pulse a quick pitter-patter beneath Keith’s wandering fingertips. Because Keith can’t possibly understand what he’s doing, can’t fathom the impact a simple impossible thing like offering him the stars  _ does _ to Lance. How it smoothes out the jagged edges of the hole in his chest and fills it with warmth and love and unimaginable happiness. 

He ducks his head, a blush coloring his cheeks. “I can’t just claim a constellation,” he mumbles. “There’s a name for it already, Coran can tell us.”

“Not to humans,” Keith tells him with conviction. “We’re probably the first from Earth to see these constellations so we get the privilege of naming them.”

He’s right. Earth is not even a blip on their radar right now, a system light-years away. And even if humans managed to make it this far out here and find these distant constellations, they’d record their own name for these stars, rewrite them to fit their vision, their hopes and dreams and futures. But here right now, alone beneath the stars, there’s no one else to witness them rewriting their own paths amongst the constellations. 

A secret all their own.

“Yemaya,” he breathes, cherishing the name on his tongue. 

Keith must hear the importance in the name for he sinks back against Lance, his weight a calm comfort amongst the budding ache. “What does it mean?”

“Not what, who,” Lance begins softly, his tone taking on an almost wistful edge. “Yemaya is the goddess of the ocean, a beautiful mermaid who gives life and protection to us all. Growing up, whenever I was going through a rough time,  _ mi abuela _ would take me down to the beach to find shells and listen to the echo of the ocean in their depths. She would tell me that’s Yemaya, whispering words of encouragement and protection, giving me strength to face the changing tides of life that I was so afraid of, telling me to embrace them and greet them with an open heart and gentle soul.” 

The ache in his heart flares to life, longing for home, for the ocean, for the life he once knew and the family he left behind. It’s constant, a steady beating drum beneath his breast that flickers into a sharp pain if he pokes at it too long or gives their far off planet too much thought. He tightens his arms around Keith, resting his chin on his head. “She’s why I’ve always loved the ocean, all its vast secrets and open mysteries. Just like the universe.”

The ache in his chest is there, poking at his most tender memories of home but Lance is shocked to find it’s not as consuming as it once was. It’s easier, the pain dulled by the weight in his arms, the gentle soothing warmth of fingertips along his skin, the love in his heart an echo of home, reverberating through the voids once filled by his family, his home, Earth. Places and people he may never see again. But he has Keith, someone he never could have imagined calling his own, to smooth the cracks and whisper love into the voids as he carves out his own space in Lance’s heart.

Keith takes Lance’s hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss on his knuckles. “Now the universe has Yemaya too.”

Lance takes a deep breath, trying and failing to swallow around the lump of emotion clogging his throat. It swells, blooming into a fire that burns through his chest, all-consuming and overwhelming that Lance isn’t sure how he’s still breathing. Love in its purest form.

He wants to say something, wants to voice aloud the cacophony of emotions rolling through him but he settles for leaning forward and placing a soft kiss to Keith’s hair, silently promising him the stars, the galaxy, the universe. Whatever he may desire, Lance would scour the ends of every system for it. 

Anything for the boy who holds his heart so delicately in his hands.

They soak in the silence of the night, taking comfort in one another and letting it wash away unearthed aches and pains. It’s a rarity, times like this, brief instances of calm in the midst of a drawn-out war. Lance has learned to take advantage of them while they linger, reveling in stolen moments with Keith, where they can just  _ be _ without the fate of the universe bowing their backs. But this one he is especially grateful for. 

Yemaya’s cluster winks in the distance and Lance feels six years old again, gazing out at the vast ocean painted in pinks and purples and oranges as the sun dips below the horizon. And just like then, he sends up a silent thanks to her, for her protection, for giving him strength through it all, for granting them this short respite for Keith to recover. 

Keith sighs into the silence, breaking it with a soft, “Lance?”

Lance hums, still transfixed by the stars.

“I um—uh.” He trails off with an exhale of breath, voice petering into silence with a series of grating noises from deep in his throat. Lance glances down with a frown, tilting his head to peek at Keith’s eyes but all he can see is the curve of his jaw and gentle slope of his nose lined in the soft glow of the console lights. “Uh—w-what?” Keith mutters, his chest stuttering beneath Lance’s fingers. 

Something hard and cold slithers around Lance’s lungs, squeezing.

“Keith?” he asks, shoving aside a haunting vision of stillness, of choppy words and slurred speech and memories still missing. “Are you okay?”

Another stuttered breath. “I f-feel fuz-zz-y.”

It means nothing, Lance tries to convince himself, his heart thrumming in his ears to fill the threatening emptiness of the deck. Just an odd offhanded statement. Nothing more. “You feel fuzzy?”

Keith’s head jerks in what could be construed as a nod but it’s too sharp, too heavy. His fingers twitch a tick later, hand spasming where it lays over Lance’s own.

And then Lance’s worst nightmare takes physical form as Keith’s whole body tenses and he begins to convulse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for seizure and aftermath of a seizure. Also some PTSD on Lance's part

Time evaporates until it’s just him and Keith and the oppressive stench of his own fear. Some other part of his brain kicks in, the logical part Coran instilled in them all just a few quintents ago. The part that knows to lay Keith down on his side, to make sure he can breathe, to cushion his movements if he can but not restrain. Lance is operating without thinking, going through the motions until he’s pulling Keith further into the protection of the console behind them as he swears he hears the hum of a gun charging, ready to bring them down. 

At some point, he remembers calling for Coran, for Allura, for goddamn anyone, through the comms on the console but they’re too far away and Keith is still shaking, still barely breathing and Lance wishes he had his bayard with him but he was stupid, he was so stupid, lulled into a sense of security and trust that everything was fine, that  _ Keith was fine. _

Keith goes still beneath his hands and Lance lays him on his back, a hand on his chest watching and waiting, hoping for a single breath, any proof that he’s alive, that he’s going to be okay.

But his attention is stolen as the footsteps of the sentries echo down the corridor, getting closer and closer and he tenses his muscles, preparing to fight once more for his life, for Keith’s life. He did it once, he can do it again. Keith is motionless, somewhere between life and death but Lance can’t give up, he has to keep fighting, keep Keith out of the Galra’s clutches.

They’ve breached the observation deck, the metallic clang of each step reverberating around the room as they approach the console. He squeezes Keith’s shoulder, balls his fists, poises to strike, and—

“Lance?” Allura’s voice catches him off guard and he falters in his attack, hesitates a beat too long until they are right on top of him. The sentry rounds the corner, glaring down at him, gun ready. But he doesn’t stop, he can’t give up at the first hint of deception and he charges with a shout and raised fists.

He thinks, maybe he gets a few good punches in, but all too soon the sentry has him by the wrists, pinning them to his side and he knows it’s over even as his body refuses to let up, struggling against the oddly gentle hold.

“—ance. Lance, it’s me. It’s Allura.” This close, her voice is like a sweet balm to his racing heart, coaxing his fear back from the brink of panic and he blinks. And blinks again. The sentry fades into sharp blue eyes and sweeping white hair, her face so close to his there can be no mistake. “You’re on the castle ship,” Allura continues, easing him into reality with every soothing word. “You’re alright. Keith’s alright.”

Keith. 

Lance whips his head around, barely sparing a fleeting glance at his fellow teammates standing by the door, looks of shock pulling their features, and finds Keith right where he left him. Coran is kneeling by his side, a gentle hand on his shoulder, speaking softly to him.

But all Lance sees is the steady rise and fall of Keith’s chest. And the world rights itself.

“Lance.” Allura pulls his attention back to her, slowly releasing him from her hold, her gaze digging into his soul. “Are you okay? Are you with us?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak right now without vomiting. Allura is looking at him with something dangerously close to pity and he doesn't want it, can’t stand it, can’t even stand himself right now. It’s bad enough that Keith’s had another seizure, but then Lance went and made it worse by sinking into full-blown melt-down hallucination. He’s not stupid, he knows what it is. He’s read about PTSD and how it affects others.

He just never thought he was weak enough to succumb to it. And that alone scares him more than the disorder does.

But he can’t think about that right now.

Allura is a watchful shadow at his back as he returns to Keith’s side, kneeling on the cold floor. “He’s okay,” she says, voice a cool gentle stream cutting through the roaring in his ears. “It’s alright. You did well. Look, he’s coming around.”

Heavy lids slowly peel back, revealing the familiar blue-grey Lance gave his heart to. Relief, however fleeting, sucks the tension from his back and the weight from his shoulders and Lance sags, trying not to lose it for the second time in just as many dobashes. It’s too close for comfort though, too close to just a movement ago when Keith’s life hung in the balance and his ability to function was in question. 

Fear squeezes Lance’s heart and he grabs Keith’s hand both to reassure himself and to let Keith know he’s there.

“Number Four,” Coran leans forward into Keith’s line of sight. “Can you hear me?”

Keith blinks, pupils dilating through the haze in his eyes. He opens his mouth, closes it and opens it again with a stuttered, “Wh-at—”

Lance gives his hand a squeeze, drawing his attention. “You had another seizure, love. But you’re okay, everything’s okay.”

He tries to sound comforting and calm even though just beneath the surface, he’s in utter turmoil. Emotions clawing at his insides, tearing him to shreds to escape. But he can’t, not now, he needs to hold it together not only for Keith’s sake but for all their sakes. One paladin to worry about is enough.

And Keith requires all their focus. Attention divided means something may be overlooked.

“What happened?” Shiro asks and Lance jumps, startled by his sudden close proximity. For a moment, he’d completely forgotten the others were still there.

Lance shakes his head. “Nothing.” The word feels light, fleeting, too delicate for the weight of the subject. Like it should hold more meaning, should hold all the answers but only falls flat with barely a sound at their feet. “We were just sitting. Just, sitting. And he said he felt fuzzy then—”

Lance swallows around the ash in his throat and gestures to Keith still blinking sluggishly up at them. But there’s more lucidity to his gaze as he meets Lance’s own, and that provides more solace than any words could right now.

Across from him, Coran hums. “I suppose it’s not too late for a post-seizure.”

“Post-traumatic seizure,” Pidge corrects from the other side of the console.

“Yes, that’s the one.” Coran nods. He peels back Keith’s lids with a gentle touch, peering at his eyes with practiced ease. “But still, I would like to get him back to the med bay and run a few tests. Is that alright with you, Number Four?”

Keith stares at Coran, blinking sluggishly and Lance bites back his panic as the ticks tick by with little response. The crease in Coran’s brow deepens and he opens his mouth to repeat the question when Keith slowly nods.

And Lance breathes, truly breathes for the first time around the fear and the panic and the  _ pain _ , his chest loosening just a fraction, unlike the near desperate grasp he has on Keith’s hand. Witnessing Keith thrashing and shaking and not breathing once while he was helpless to do much more than watch the life leave him was one time too many. He never thought there would be a second. He never thought he’d have to endure such a heart-wrenching experience ever again. War, he knew, would bring extraordinary challenges, would make him face fears he never even knew he had, risk the lives of those he loved, and walk through fires he knew would leave lasting burns. But this? This wasn’t a war he could physically fight in. He can’t shoot what he can’t see.

But he will fight. He’ll be that shoulder to lean on, the words that lift and encourage, the voice of hope and reason, the comforting touch that soothes aches and washes away the pain. And the strength when all else is crumbling. That he can do.

Like Yemaya does for so many. For him.

Coran gently pats Keith on the back, his smile blinding. “Good boy. Number Two, could you help me get him up?”

Lance nods and together, they get a disoriented and exhausted Keith to his feet and slowly start to make their way down to the med bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, its been a little bit but here's a new chapter and we are finally getting to the meat of this story. Well, sorta. Going to be exploring some things not touched on in the show so strap in everyone

Lance was really starting to hate the med bay. In retrospect, he knows that’s a foolish notion seeing as how Keith was walking, talking,  _ breathing _ thanks to the technology and life-saving aspects of this place. But beneath all the physical positives was a feeling of dread and doubt and rancid sour fear in the back of his throat every time he found himself amongst the metal and machinery. Sitting here, waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be given news that they couldn’t possibly recover from.

Like missing memories.

Or severe brain injury.

Or—

“This could happen again?” Lance asks, sounding more tired than he has any right to be. He’s not the one recovering from  _ another seizure _ , not the one who’s whole life is tilting on its axis, threatening to throw everything he knows tumbling into space.

But Keith is such a firm building block in Lance’s life now it may as well be him on that bed, looking for all the universe like his world is crumbling down around him.

Coran nods with a look more reserved for small talk rather than the sickening twists and turns this uncharted path has thrown them all into. “It’s possible, yes. His brain may have sustained more permanent damage resulting in a lifelong disorder.”

Disorder. The word hangs heavy over the room, suffocating, weighing on their shoulders snuggled up next to the fate of the universe.

“But it may not be?” Lance throws out the desperate lifeline, trying to reel back in some semblance of hope.

“Yes, it may not be.” Coran’s voice is much too light and chipper for the weight of the room but Lance appreciates his effort. “Only time will tell.”

Looking over Coran’s shoulder at the datapad, Shiro interjects, “When will we know for sure?”

“If he has another seizure.” Coran taps a few commands into the datapad before handing it over to Allura when she sidles up next to him. “And be aware there is more than one kind of seizure.”

Lance stiffens in his seat, perched in heart-wrenching deja vu at Keith’s bedside. “What?”

“Oh yes,” Coran says with a nod. “Seizures can be anywhere from slight twitching in the muscles or limbs to staring spells or even just sensations of feeling cold, racing heart, being unable to move.” He turns to address Keith and Lance follows his gaze. “If you feel dizzy, smell, taste, or feel something odd, have lapse in your memory—besides the phoeb from before—have a bout of sudden confusion, weakness or fatigue, those can all be signs of small seizures so be on the lookout.”

Keith doesn’t react, eyes firmly locked on the bed’s metal footboard, and Lance can see the walls that took him months to break down being reconstructed. He’s shutting himself off, falling back on old ways of protecting his soft vulnerable underbelly and keeping the truth at bay. But it’s there, written in every tense line of his body, in the clench of his jaw, and the curl of his fingers around Lance’s hand. 

And Lance’s whole world shatters. 

“How many times?” Lance’s voice is soft but worn and splintering at the edges.

Keith’s gaze flits to him, the emotion he’s desperately building a wall to keep back seeping through the cracks and glistening in his eyes. His words are barely more than an exhale of breath as he stammers out, “I-I don’t know.”

“Twice? Three times?” There’s a dread clawing up Lance’s throat, squeezing his chest so tight he’s sure the whole room can hear his heart beating as it urgently attempts to escape the cruelty fate has dealt. Keith shakes his head. “More?” He shrugs.

“Oh.” Lance whips his head back to Coran as he speaks. The light cheer in his tone is gone, replaced with a more sombre baritone that solidifies the dread into something real, something true that threatens to tear Lance apart at the seams. “That—changes things,” he finishes. 

Beside him, Allura is stoic as she hands the datapad back, leaning close to whisper in his ear. He nods to her.

When Lance glances back, Keith’s face is impassive, a hardened mask of indifference and disinterest in place as he stares holes into the footboard once more. But Lance is losing circulation in his hand with how hard Keith is holding on and he knows he needs to bring him back, needs to keep him here or he’ll shut down completely, bottle it away to never see the light of day again.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Lance says, coaxing Keith out of his downward spiral with calm tones and a gentle caress of his cheek. When Keith finally looks at him, his eyes are clouding over, a storm of emotions swirling, spiraling out of control. Lance solidifies his resolve and pushes all his hardened determination into every fiber of his being until it’s shining through his touch, through his eyes, through every inhale and exhale and word he breathes. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Everything will be alright.”

Something breaks in Keith’s gaze, crumbling. “I didn’t-I didn’t know,” he breathes between clenched teeth, voice fraying at the edges into a desperate plea.

It tears Lance apart. 

He can’t even fathom how Keith must feel. For a simple in-and-out mission to be turned on its head in an instant, to have the control Keith has so carefully sustained and cultivated and fought for all his life be ripped out from under him with a simple blow to the head. To know that at any moment his body and mind will betray him in one way or another and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

To be filled with hope and relief at the worst being behind him only to realise it was shifting, morphing into a new monster he’d have to battle  _ for the rest of his life _ .

But he won’t be alone. 

Lance leans forward, placing a gentle kiss to Keith’s hairline before threading his fingers through his hair as he brings their foreheads together. For a moment, a brief encompassing moment as he just closes his eyes and breathes Keith in.

“I know, it’s okay,” he whispers like a promise for Keith’s ears only, “none of us did. But we do now and we can figure something out.”

And he means it. He means every word. Because this may be happening to Keith, may be throwing his whole life into a tailspin but it affects them all. 

Because they are a family and a family sticks together. Through thick and thin.

Shiro’s voice cuts through the room, his words sharp and thick slicing at Lance’s heart. “He’s got epilepsy, doesn’t he?”

Coran nods, his mustache twitching. “We Alteans call it onikori, but yes I believe we are talking about the same thing.”

“Epilepsy?” Lance interjects, reluctantly pulling away from Keith to stare at each of them in turn. He’s heard of the term before, attached like a curse to a girl in his elementary school. It caused her to have regular seizures, giving the other kids something to laugh at and bully. “But that’s treatable right? There’s medicine for that?”

“The symptoms, yes.” It’s Pidge that speaks up, arms crossed, voice an octave too high to hide her concern. She pushes her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “It’s a neurological disorder, there’s no cure for it.”

“But people function with it,” Lance counters, his words tumbling out in a rush of hope and urgent pleas and he’s suddenly gripping Keith’s hand just as hard. “They live their lives without a problem, yeah? If we can get some medicine—”

Pidge’s sharp gaze locks on him, simmering with dangerous anger that he’s only seen once or twice when she talks about the missing branches of her family. A flash of emotion across an otherwise sober facade. “Where? We’re a million lightyears from Earth.” She throws her arms wide, voice rising as she plows on. “You think there’s just going to be some drugs floating around in space?”

Lance shakes his head. “No, but perhaps if we can get the right ingredients Coran can—”

“Actually,” Coran cuts in and everyone turns their attention to him. He’s studying the datapad again, a pinch in his brow and looks up when the room falls quiet, catching Allura’s eye before continuing. “I think we might have something similar here. It’s not for the same purpose but Alteans use it to calm the synapses in the brains of over-sensitive children. But...” Coran trails off, his frown deepening.

“But what?” Lance urges, the question bitter on his tongue with dissolving hope. They need something, anything at this point. Keith is balancing on a knife's edge, hell Lance is too, scrambling for any modicum of optimism in this raging black sea that threatens to drown them all.

Coran straightens, doing that open, bordering excitement pull of his features he does when he explains Altean ways. All full of pride and delight that has no business being in this conversation but settles Lance’s nerves with its normalcy just a fraction nonetheless. 

“Well, it’s for Altean children that are extremely sensitive to quintessence. It quiets the overactive electrical firings in their brains that tap them into the deeper currents of quintessence. It allows them to grow into the power more naturally until they’re at an age that they can be weaned off and ease into it and control it. It’s actually quite effective. Allura was on it for a few years as a young one.” His radiating pride gives way to a pulled brow and a hum of pondering as he taps on the datapad once more at a rapid pace. “It would need to be configured to better suit human biology, would take quite a bit of trial and error but,” he pauses, glancing over at Allura.

Allura’s gaze is hard, a regal mask thrown up over pursed lips and a deep sense of responsibility. Just like in the observation deck something cold and sharp slithers down Lance’s back and he feels the crushing weight of her words before she opens her mouth.

“But it may affect your ability to form Voltron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	9. Chapter 9

Of course the war doesn’t cease just because Keith’s life has been turned upside down.

Lance wishes it would. Hold for realignment of life please. All they need is a slight intermission in the space opera that has become their reality, but the Galra wait for no one. Their thirst for expansion, for destruction, for spreading pain and death and greed across the universe is unrelenting and when the distress call comes in, Voltron must respond.

They are the defenders of the universe first and foremost.

“You could sit this one out,” Lance suggests despite his better judgment, clicking his chest plate into place. Over the past quintant and armed with the knowledge and insight into recognizing the less noticeable seizures, Lance saw just how frequent they had become. And how more frequent they were becoming with each passing quintant. It was understandable, what with the added stress and anxiety over the new revelations to Keith’s neurological health and overall major life-altering changes, but that didn’t quell Lance’s worry one bit.

In fact, he only became increasingly worried with each staring spell, every smack of Keith’s lips and scrunch of his nose, every moment he forgot where he was or what he was doing, and each time he stumbled or fell with numb legs. Sometimes, he’d stop talking mid-sentence, face slack and Lance’s heart would clench in fear thinking he was about to collapse into another full-blown seizure. But he’d snap back to himself and Lance would quickly mask his fear with soothing reassurances and gentle explanations.

And each time the tension in Keith’s body would increase another fraction. 

It was taking its toll on both of them, on all of them, if Pidge’s penchant for hanging out in the med bay, Hunk’s sudden need to cook everything and anything, and Shiro’s habit of stopping in for seemingly casual chats were anything to go by. They were all on edge, all worried and concerned, and the tension in the castle ship thickening with anticipation of the other shoe dropping.

So it made sense for Keith to sit this fight out.

But Lance knows Keith is much too stubborn and prideful to wait on the sidelines of a fight. He knows this and yet, a small part of him wishes Keith would take it, to stay safe until Coran has perfected his medication, until the trial drugs Keith has been put through thus far yield positive results. But Keith would never willingly bench himself.

Lance still wants to put the offer out there, to give him an out should he need one.

Keith stiffens, a hardened mask falling over his features and, just as Lance anticipated, spits out a sharp, “No,” putting an end to any other arguments.

And Lance reluctantly relents.

He knows better than to argue with Keith when he’s made up his mind. That path only leads to anger, pain, and guilt for both parties involved, something he had to learn first hand a while ago. So he keeps quiet, silently assisting Keith with his armor, ignoring the tense muscles and clenched jaw, wanting nothing more than to smooth the pinch in his brow with a warm bath and gentle fingers.

He settles for whispering reassuring words and a soft parting kiss before they go their separate ways into their lions. 

It’s not enough, but Lance desperately wishes it would be.

Worry sits heavy in the pit of his stomach, a weight that jostles around with every turn Keith executes, every fight he engages, every flip, every blast that nearly misses. It drives him to instinctually fly close to Red, to watch his back, to always keep him in his periphery, on the lookout for anything amiss. It’s foolish, he knows this, but the anxiety squeezing his heart and the worry weighing him down won't let him venture too far.

A detail that doesn’t slip past Keith’s notice.

“Lance goddamnit, pay attention! You’re going to get yourself killed. Focus!”

Lance grits his teeth and pulls Blue’s controls, twisting in midair to avoid another blast to his flank and letting loose a return blast of his own to strike the fighter down. Red zooms past, the heat and anger roiling through the comms palpable. 

No one remarks. 

Shiro’s commands are the only source of communication as he calls general orders down the line to keep them all on track and in sync, preventing the galra fighters from attacking the small planet’s surface and the innocent lives being threatened. They follow them without question, the tension too heated to risk poking at.

But Lance doesn’t miss Red faltering mid-strike, a jerky movement that would otherwise escape notice to those who didn’t intimately know Keith’s fighting style.

He knows. He sees the signs.

He sees the usually deadly hits landing off-center, wounding, not shattering, the less-than-graceful flips, how Red’s attention will jump from one fighter to another without warning as though Keith lost his train of thought.

And the heart-stopping moments Lance is forced to spring into action and take down a fighter getting too close for comfort because Red has paused mid-flight, unmoving.

Through it all, Lance takes the barrage of anger biting across the comms, spewed from a frustrated frightened Keith who can do nothing but watch his carefully maintained control slip through his fingers. Watch everything he worked and fought for evaporate before his eyes. Lance understands, he gets it, his heart aches for Keith. So he bites his tongue and powers through, watching Keith’s back while trying to hold his own until his arms shake and muscles twinge from the strain of maintaining both their control.

Thankfully, the fight is over quickly.

The team crows their victory through the comms, though it’s muted with tension. And short-lived.

Almost immediately, Red turns tail and shoots for the castle ship, Keith ignoring Shiro’s calls and Allura’s questions, unwavering from his trajectory. They’re supposed to go planetside, to greet the elders and maintain diplomacy, to ensure the people are safe. But it’s clear they’ll have to do it without the Red Paladin.

And the Blue. 

“Shiro, I—

“Go.” Shiro’s voice is low, tinged with sorrow and concern but unwavering in its conviction. “We’ve got this covered.”

Lance nods though he knows Shiro can’t see him and turns to follow Keith back to the castle ship, his heart racing, sinking, clenching with a cacophony of emotions and fears he is increasingly growing accustomed to, much to his chagrin.

It doesn’t matter, just like nothing has mattered since this whole ordeal began. Keith is his main priority, will always be his main priority. Everything else comes second.

So he follows the streak of Red across twinkling stars, watching as it gets swallowed up by the castle ship and begins scraping at the dregs of his energy for enough to make it through another grueling battle.

But unlike the one they just fought, he’s not sure he’ll escape this one unscathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	10. Chapter 10

The hangar is deserted by the time Lance lands, Red sitting idle and empty, void of her usual Paladin. Something sharp aches in Lance’s chest. He knows this will be hard, that Keith is frustrated and angry and will likely lash out even more than he did during the battle with the Galra and Lance’s heart will take the brunt of his words.

But he also knows that Keith is hurting, that he’s breaking, tearing apart at the seams like he’s only ever done twice before in his life; once when his father died and then again when Shiro went missing. And just like then, Keith needs someone to help put him back together again. The only difference is back then Keith was completely alone.

Lance doesn’t even hesitate. 

Because that’s what love does. It drives people to walk through the fires of hell for someone, whether those fires are out of their control or of their own making. True love is not biased like everyone thinks, harboring conditions, and limits. And it’s certainly not a smooth paved road through the lavish countryside. There are twists and turns, bumps and hills and goddamn mountains that look impossible to climb in your small junker of a car. 

But there’s not a mountain Lance wouldn’t scale for Keith. They may be battered and bruised with a few extra scars marring their hearts by the end but it’ll be worth it. If only to see Keith smile again.

He takes off his helmet and pats Red as he passes, glancing up at her with a heavy heart. “I’ll bring him back to you,” he promises with a heavy heart.

Lance nearly jumps out of his skin as dim warmth nudges at the edge of his consciousness. Instinctively, he looks up at Red. She hasn’t moved, not even a twitch but he knows it's her, the fiery lick of heat to his mind unmistakable, though merely a dull whisper in comparison to Blue’s cool encouragement filling every crevice of his mind across their stronger bond. 

“Thank you,” he whispers past the lump clogging his throat. He rubs his thumb along Red’s warm metal. “Thank you for not giving up on him.”

Another warm hum nudges at his consciousness but it fades quickly like a dying fire. Lance nods and, fueled by the lions’ strength, he exits the hangar and heads toward his and Keith’s room.

But he barely makes it two steps down the hall before quickly changing direction, opting for a brief detour to the training deck just in case. Keith has a penchant for pushing himself too hard and too far especially when he’s stressed or angry but since the incident, his time spent training has been nearly cut in half. Rightfully so, seeing as he needed time to heal. But now?

Now, Lance is more convinced with every step that’s exactly where Keith is. Falling back on old habits, desperate for normalcy and a drive to prove he is still capable of something, of anything.

It’s what Lance would do and it’s what Keith certainly needs right now. The reassurance of his own ability to still  _ be Keith. _

Lance can hear the grunts of frustration and muffled shouts of anger echoing down the corridor before he even reaches the training deck door. There’s a strain to each one, like Keith’s balancing on the precipice, just a nudge away from tipping over into something overwhelming, something all-consuming and unrelenting. Lance winces with a particularly guttural shout and he picks up his pace.

The training deck is a mess. 

Keith crouches in the middle facing off against a bot, his blade flashing in one hand, bayard in the other, and a snarl splitting his lips. His top half is stripped down to the undersuit with the various pieces of armor strewn about the mat haphazardly like he ripped them off in a hurry. Or in anger. Probably the latter based on his near-feral aggression toward the bot. 

Lance leans against the doorway and sets his helmet on the floor, watching from the shadows as Keith ducks under the bot’s swipe and goes for a stab to the gut.

And crashes to one knee with a grunt. Lance’s heart stops and he’s stepping forward before he can even think twice about it. But by then Keith has recovered enough to follow through in his attack and the bot evaporates into the air leaving him panting between gritted teeth. Slowly, he gets to his feet but he’s favoring his left leg like he doesn’t trust quite the other just yet. 

“Keith?” Lance takes another hesitant step into the room, ignoring the tension and anger rolling off Keith in sharp waves. 

“Leave me alone.” Keith’s voice is low, dangerous. Threatening.

But his shoulders are shaking, his body taut like a band about to break under the strain. Lance takes another step. “Let me help—“

“I don’t want you to!” Keith demands, tone cruel and barbed as he whirls around. “I don’t need a goddamn babysitter, I’m not going to keel over and choke on my own tongue in the next dobash! So leave me the fuck alone, for once!”

The words of support and hope and reassurance crumble to ash on Lance’s tongue, turning sour with guilt as his certainty wavers. He knows Keith doesn’t mean it, knows deep down that he’s not angry at Lance but at himself, at his own body’s betrayal. 

But that doesn’t mean the sharp sting of his words don’t cut deep. 

He had been so sure he’d been helping, not smothering or babying or crowding Keith too much over the past movement. He’d given him space, let him do what he had to heal while also providing strength when necessary and giving Keith whatever he needed. It wasn’t easy but Lance had thought he was doing right, thought he was helping.

Thought he was being a good boyfriend, a good teammate, a good partner.

Maybe on the surface Keith doesn’t mean it but there’s a part of him that does. The heat of the moment tends to bring out the truth, no matter how much it may hurt.

And Lance has never been good at not taking things to heart.

Something on Lance’s face must seep through the veneer he hastily constructed because Keith’s hardened expression crumbles with a shuddered exhale.

“I’m sorry,” Keith chokes out, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean—fuck!” His blade clatters to the training mat with a muffled clang, his hand overcome with twitches and spasms. His bayard joins it soon after as he grabs the wrist in a death grip trying to force it still, force it to stop shaking with gritted teeth, eyes glistening.

Despite the raw throbbing wounds on his heart, Lance steps onto the mat. Because he can see what’s about to happen, watches as the cracks deepen, as they spread and grow into fissures and crevices and—

And then with a breathless choked whine, Keith  _ shatters. _

Lance quickly closes the distance between them just as Keith’s legs give out and they sink to the mat together, Lance’s arms securely around his shoulders, holding him, anchoring him as his body shudders and he breaks apart. 

And Lance’s heart bleeds with him.

For the first time, he’s seeing Keith at his most vulnerable. Raw and ragged and completely ripped open, his heart left bleeding on the floor with all the pain and anguish, fear and anger, frustration and overwhelming unjust pouring out to wash over Lance, threatening to drown them both. Lance’s eyes sting and he blinks a few times to will the tears away. For Keith’s sake, always for Keith’s sake. He has to be strong.

No matter how easy it would be to be swept away, to follow Keith over the edge and let it all consume him like he wants. But he stands his ground, tightens his grip, and swallows his pain.

Because Keith needs him now more than ever to hold him together. To keep them both afloat as the universe tries hard to tear them down and pull them under. 

Silent heavy tears roll down Keith’s cheeks to fall onto Lance’s armor, leaving wet trails down his chest plate. He wishes he had the foresight to take it off before coming to find Keith if only to create a better more comfortable embrace, but it’s of little consequence now. He’s here and that’s what matters as Keith clings to him like a lifeline, fingers digging into the soft undersuit at his waist, breath fanning in shuddering puffs against the underside of his jaw.

He’s not sure how long they stay twined together on the training mat but it's long enough for Lance’s legs to go numb and his already sore arms to ache with the strain of holding them both up. Keith’s gone silent and still in his arms, his tears having dried up a bit ago leaving only slight tremors of exhaustion in their wake. His head is tucked against Lance’s jaw right against his pulse point, his breathing so slow and sedated that Lance wonders if he’s even still awake. 

He tilts his head to peer down at Keith. Blue-grey stares back up at him, red-rimmed and puffy, caked in such pain that Lance’s heart breaks all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers through the cracks in his voice. He takes another shuddering breath, throat bobbing, and blinks back another wave of gathering tears. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Any of it. What I said over comms or now, it wasn’t fair. You’ve been perfect. I’m just—”

His voice gives out then, petering into a breathless whimper and he grips Lance tighter.

“You’re going through a lot,” Lance finishes for him, tucking Keith back under his chin with a kiss to his head. Keith melts into him, fingers clenching at his undersuit in desperation. “I know. It’s—well, no it’s not okay. None of this is. But I think it will be. Just give it time. We’ll figure it out.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We will.” Lance pours all the conviction and confidence he can into those two words, even if he himself harbors a few doubts. But doubts won’t help anyone and Keith desperately needs some hope to cling onto. “Just have to be patient. Coran—”

But Keith pulls back with a stale scoff, harsh and bitter and defeated. “I can’t fly like this, Lance. I can’t fight. I’m a liability and we all know it. What if I have a major seizure in the middle of a battle, huh? I’d be putting the team at risk, more than I was today. People could die, Lance!” The anger, the urgency that built up through his tirade dies suddenly on Keith’s lips, his voice crumbling alongside his face. “You could die,” he finishes with a whisper.

Lance feels like he’s been hit in the chest with an ion cannon as he tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Coran’s working—”

“On a medication, yes but who’s to say that will work? So far he hasn’t had any success, just a few that make me feel completely out of my mind. And even if he does find something, there’s no way to tell how it’ll affect our ability to form Voltron. I doubt we can form Voltron now as I am.” A cold resignation turns Keith’s expression to stone and he looks away, eyes downcast as if he can’t bear to see the agreement in Lance’s eyes when he stammers, “I don’t—I think it’s best to start searching for a new—”

“No.”

When Keith glances back up, Lance barely takes notice through the haze of anger and hardened resolve buzzing through his ears, setting his heart ablaze with righteous fury. Not at Keith, never at Keith, but at what this whole situation has taken from him. His control, his life, his very being, and now his belief in his own self-worth. 

Nausea churns Lance’s stomach to join the anger burning through his veins.

But Keith just rises up to meet him with a smoldering gaze that borders on pleading. “It makes sense!” 

Lance shakes his head, eyes steely. “No, it doesn’t. You still want to be a part of Voltron yes?”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“And you still want to pilot Red?”

Keith’s face falls with a shuddered exhale. “Lance, you know I do,” he whispers, defeated.

Lance grabs his hand, holding it tight in his own, trying to will some of his own earnest confidence into Keith. It hurts him to see Keith this way, to see the hope fade from his eyes leaving them dull and lifeless. He knows Keith doesn’t have much in his life and what he does have he holds onto with all his strength and will fight tooth and nail to keep it. It’s what makes him such a ferocious ally. To lose the team would be to lose everything he has.

So the fact that he is proposing he step down and give up his place as the Red Paladin, means he’s lost all hope.

But Lance hasn’t and he needs to bring Keith back away from the edge. “Then that’s that. The rest is not your decision to make. Red  _ chose _ you.” 

With a forlorn shake of his head, Keith huffs a pained chuckle in response, devoid of any humor. “She could have never predicted this.”

“None of us could have.” And Lance means for it to sound light, add some levity to the conversation and maybe wash away that lingering doubt in Keith’s eyes but the words come out heavy and earnest and he rolls with it. “But she hasn’t rejected you, you’re still connected to her. So she still  _ wants _ you, seizures and all. You’re her pilot, full stop.” 

There’s a sheen to Keith’s gaze as he searches Lance’s eyes for kinks in his words and when he doesn’t find anything, the ghost of a watery smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Lance squeezes his hand again and smiles in return. 

“It’s going to be okay, Keith. We will figure this out.”

Keith just nods, but Lance can see he still has his doubts, his fear overshadowing Lance’s words. Keith isn’t one to live off of someone’s words alone, not when it comes to situations out of their control. He’s a man of action, the needs-to-see-it-to-believe-it type who harbors doubts until he’s shown proof of the results. It’s a quality Lance finds equally annoying and endearing. There’s no telling if they will find a solution or not, no telling if Coran can concoct something that will take the edge off Keith’s symptoms and give him back the life he had, but Lance has to believe they will.

Because if he doesn’t, then they both might fall.

Something dangerous settles over Keith’s features, smoothing them out and sharpening the edges with cold iron. His gaze is fixed on the wall over Lance’s shoulder but Lance can tell he’s not really seeing it, his mind whirling, calculating. 

Planning. Just like he would before leaping into a hoard of Galra twice his size knowing he may not come out alive but at least he’d be doing right by everyone else.

Cold fear slices through Lance’s heart, stealing the breath from his lungs. 

And then it hardens into steel so fast and quick until Lance is gripping Keith’s hand as if that alone can keep the thoughts at bay. Keep him here. 

“Don’t.” 

The word pierces the silence, leaving it so unstable and threatening it pulls Keith’s gaze back to his with a jolt. “Don’t what?” he asks but there's a lilt of shame to his voice that betrays his guilt.

And that only adds to Lance’s increasing panic. It’s building with every tick, threatening to close his airways and send him spiraling, the  _ exact opposite _ of what he’s been trying to do ever since this whole mess began. But it can’t be helped, especially when Keith is looking like he’s about to throw himself to the Galra. 

He knows what he saw in Keith’s expression. He knows what it means and what it would do to the team. To him. 

To them. 

They both ignore the tremble in Lance’s hand as he levels a warning finger at Keith. “Don’t even think about it. I swear, if you leave, I will never forgive you.” He takes a shaky breath, heart collapsing at the thought of the castle ship cold and empty, devoid of the warmth Keith brought to his life. Lance’s face crumbles as he slowly unravels. “I’ll love you, nothing can change that, but I won’t ever forgive you.”

This time, it’s Keith that pulls Lance against him, wrapping him in strength and surrounding him with assurances.

“I don’t think I can. Maybe before.” His voice trails off as his thumb begins rubbing soothing circles into Lance’s bicep where the armor doesn’t reach. And though he doesn’t say the words, Lance understands the silence of them all the same.

_ Before this. Before you. Before us.  _

They echo like a promise through Lance’s heart, calming him, reassuring him even when unspoken. He inhales sharply, breathing Keith in.

“But now?” Keith continues after a beat, shaking his head and when he speaks next, there’s the hint of fondness in his voice. “My whole life is here, everyone I care about, everyone I love.”

A gentle finger under his chin urges Lance to look up and meet Keith’s softened gaze, their noses brushing.

“You’re here,” he whispers against Lance’s skin. 

Then he closes the distance and seals the promise with a quiet kiss. It’s simple, just a press of lips but Lance feels the love and devotion Keith pours into it. The litany of apologies on his breath, the gratitude on his lips, all the pain and aches and fears he lets go of for just a moment to soak in everything that Lance has given him and all he continually offers him.

To just  _ be _ . 

Together.

It doesn’t last long, just enough to clear Lance of all his resurrected doubts and return his confidence tenfold. And when they break apart, there's a spark in Keith’s eye that wasn’t there before, that hasn’t been there since he was diagnosed and Lance feels nearly giddy with joy and relief and happiness at seeing just that little piece of Keith resurface however fleetingly.

A confident smile tilts Lance’s lips and he nods. “Good.” 

The moment is interrupted as distant voices trickle into the training deck through the open door and Keith tenses beneath Lance’s fingers. 

But Lance is having no more of that. He cups Keith’s cheek, rubbing his thumb along the edge of his cheekbone before coaxing him into another soft gentle kiss that smooths the rigidity from his shoulders and has him melting back into Lance’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


End file.
